He felt everybody's eyes on him. He felt how they stared at the plethora of tattoos covering his neck all the way to the ones visible on his arms. He was used to being the center of attention. Still, after disappearing from the watchful eyes of society for months, undergoing a rather dangerous high-risk mission, and of course, succeeding, he's forgotten how good it feels to be gawked at. Not that the lackeys of the enemy family he managed to infiltrate didn't gawk at him, but that was more from the dreadful realization that they'd be living their last day. The way meer strangers took in every single detail of his built frame was more from attraction—they were thirsty, and he was more than happy to indulge.
As Maverick walked into the office of his boss' film company, he couldn't help but smirk. Seems like even in professional environments full of luxurious interior and well-dressed office workers, he was still the most desirable eye candy.
He couldn't blame them. With his blond hair slicked back and suit perfectly tailored for his body, he was practically irresistible.
The ding of the elevator had him resuming his long strides, excitement evident on his face as he stepped out to one of the higher levels of the building. There, his childhood best friend's assistant sat listlessly, hands tapping away at her phone. Noticing his presence, the clueless girl practically threw her device away from her body before standing to greet him.
"Mr. Hunton! I wasn't aware you had an appointment with the director today."
"I don't. This is more of a surprise visit." He corrected playfully, grin ferociously enticing as always. The assistant looked like she was on the verge of melting.
"Oh, well... Ms. Kingsley isn't in today. The president sent her to attend a meeting with one of the investors. I'm sorry..." The ginger explained, high-pitched voice lowering to a whisper. Maverick raised a brow. Had she been scared of his disapproval? He knew he looked intimidating, but not that intimidating.
"Oh? And where is this meeting being held?" He asked, leaning into her as his elbow supported the weight of his head on the desk. The adorable glow of red on the assistant's face only brightened, and the look on her face had him chuckling, amused.
"Oh! Let me check." She squeaked, scrambling to set her documents straight.
The pretty thing sported a royal blue blazer with a matching pencil skirt, clothes made to fit her alluringly. He had to hand it to his childhood best friend. She sure knew how to choose the attractive ones and dress them rather exquisitely, knowing she had a habit of suggesting outfits to her peers and subordinates. Maverick wouldn't be surprised if Remy bought her assistant's current ensemble with her own money, knowing how generous she was.
After a moment of shared silence, the assistant spoke again. "According to this, the director's in The Fantasia Nightclub right now."
That had his eyebrow raising. "Fantasia? The one owned by Joseph Ryder?"
"Ah, yes! She's meeting with Mr. Joseph Ryder right now. They're settling a proposal, I believe."
He hummed, deep in thought. He didn't know Ryder was interested in the film industry, Maverick knew him more for his affiliations in the... darker side of the business. He was a vicious man, and knowing that he was speaking to the his friend right now had his heart racing in concern.
"Thanks, sweetheart. I'll make sure to bring you a little something the next time I stop by." He winked, knowing that he'd probably get a beating if Remy found out that he was flirting with her assistant again.
He hurriedly stepped into the elevator, calling his driver to tell him to prepare his car and to inform him of their next destination. Even as he left the building in a haste, eyes were on him.
He entered the shiny black mercedes with a sour expression, hand moving to the pack of cigarettes hidden in his blazer. Maverick usually smoked when he was stressed, and at that moment, he felt as if he was going to die from the tenseness in his body—he wanted to, no, he needed to know that Remy was safe.
It only took them half an hour to arrive at the exclusive nightclub, but to Maverick, it had already been a couple of centuries since he left the company building. Slamming his door shut, he glared at the bright neon signs as his ears were violated with the booming music coming from the inside. It was still early into the evening, but the crowd inside seemed to have already gotten lost in the wildness of the party.
He cut through the line, the people waiting too threatened by his appearance and deathly aura to complain outloud. The bouncer guarding the entrance tried stopping him from going in, a newbie probably. His ignorance irked the seething man. He was impossibly close to just hurting someone and making a way for himself, but before he could, he inhaled, restoring the practiced playfulness that was usually plastered on his face, as he showed the bouncer his VIP pass, something he acquired in one of his boss' tasks.
The moment he entered the heavily decorated establishment, his eyes immediately started to scramble. He forced himself to regain his rationality, trying to figure out where exactly an important meeting with the owner of the club would be held. He followed his instincts, memories of meeting with Joseph Ryder leading him to a heavily guarded room. The last time they met, it had been bloodied and heavy in alcohol, an environment incredibly unfit for the likes of Remy, who was overlysensitive and foolishly naive. He hoped that the meeting wasn't going the way he thought it was going.
The two suited men who were standing in front of the door immediately recognized him, but they held on to their face of stoicism despite the emerging fear they felt.
"You're not allowed inside." One of them informed.
"Well, tell your boss I'm here, then. I don't have all day."
Maverick watched as the two exchanged a look before pushing one of the massive doors open. "Sir, Mr. Hunton is here."
He heard commotion inside the room, frustrated complaints thrown around rather loudly, before the bodyguard gave him approval to walk past the doors.
His heart dropped as he immediately recognized the smell of sin— what had the bastard done to his best friend?
"Don't get your panties in a twist, Hunton.. I honestly have no idea why you're here, but if it's for some betrayal accusation, I've done nothing wrong—" He spoke in a disinterested tone, and only now did Maverick notice the other's state of undress, as well as the other exposed bodies lounging in the spacious room, all in different kinds of highs.
"Where the hell is Remy?" He seethed. Not wanting to entertain the multitude of possibilities racing through his head.
The man's eyes widened before his face scrunched up to a look of confusion. "Remy, who in the devil's attic is— You mean Ms. Kingsley? Are you an imbecile? Our meeting ended hours ago!"
"...Oh." He let out a loud sigh, pushing his unruly blond hair back, clenched fists releasing in relief. But then, the tension returned. This time, Maverick took the chance to step closer to the owner of the nightclub, his threatening aura following him as a multitude of eyes observed the scenery unfolding in front of their very eyes. "That doesn't answer anything. Tell me where she is before I leave you and your entourage another problem to deal with."
"Intense as always, Hunton." Joseph Ryder, the man who was barely dressed in a robe, snickered, the last of his playfulness leaving his face.
"But fine, I'll indulge you. Ms. Kingsley is probably down there dancing with a dozen bodyguards, enjoying herself, while you're up here interrupting my happy hour with your paranoid ramblings and empty threats." He said, but both of them knew those threats were anything but empty.
Maverick turned to the direction of the door, ready to leave the room reeking of carnal desire when the owner of the nightclub spoke again.
"Ms. Kingsley seems to be an important person to you. I've never seen you care like this before. Don't tell me she's a weakness, Hunton."
He glared at the man. "She's a very important person in general, Ryder. I suggest you stick your nose somewhere else unless you want your entire livelihood to be eviscerated."
And with that, he stepped out to the general lobby of the nightclub, the number of party goers doubling by the second. He couldn't deny that the vibe had tempted him to grab a drink for himself and approach one of the beautiful women near the bar, but he had a mission, an important self-appointed one.
His eyes scoured the room, his perception sharpening greatly over the years. There, in the middle of the dance floor, stood the only person he's ever truly cared for in a scantily clad dress, swaying against another man.
Maverick couldn't quite understand the feeling that overcame him as his eyes narrowed down to Remy's laughing figure. She was an adult. He knew that. She was allowed to enjoy such things. She was allowed to enjoy clubbing, drinking, se... He'd rather not think about that one.
He just didn't expect it from her. The girl who would complain about overwhelming noises and preferred warm milk over the putrid taste of alcohol. The girl who, throughout their entire college lives, refused to attend a single party because she found the hormonally charged events much too... uncultured and unhinged.
He didn't expect to be catching her dancing to a sultry club song with another man's hands wrapped around her waist. He didn't expect her to be looking so good while doing it too, remembering the time she had stiffly made awkward movements with her body on her senior dance, an event he volunteered to be her date for since she had been picky and ended up rejecting all her options. The girl shot her dance partner a sultry look and Maverick felt his heart leap out of his chest— Before he knew it, he was meters away from the two entangled figures, parting the crowd with his built frame.
What? Why was he doing this? Why was he disturbing his childhood best friend's fun? It was for her own safety, he tried to reason with himself. Pulling her away from the dance floor was a precaution, he had to make sure Joseph Ryder hadn't harmed or drugged her, even though he knew it in himself that the man didn't have the guts to lay a finger on her.
Fortunately for him, Remy looked only slightly bothered by his actions. A bright smile on her face as she realized who exactly was holding on to her arm.
"Maverick! You doof! Since when did you get back?!" She exclaimed, taking the opportunity to jump into his arms, squeezing the life out of him in a crushing embrace. Her face was flushed from intoxication, pupils expanding to cover most of her dark brown irises.
For a moment, he forgot what he was doing. He was so worried for her safety that he had forgotten how much he missed her. It was a heartwarming moment shared between the two as they held each other, the rest of the anarchic world muted out by their shared warmth. Maverick wanted to hear his childhood best friend's heartbeat against his chest as they had the tranquil moment. He wanted to take her home and be cuddled up with her for months on end, making up for the time they were away from each other.
But of course, nothing good ever lasted, not in his world. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and if it wasn't for Remy's never-ending bear hug, he would've let instinct take over and maneuvered around the stranger to neutralize them.
His childhood friend then let go of him, a loss he felt in his very soul, and turned to the stranger who's moved his hand to shake Maverick's.
"Hi, I'm Lucien, I'm Remy's..." He introduced himself, freezing as he shot Remy a look.
"He's my, uhh... He's my sugar baby."